


differing warmth

by timelessidyll



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Slow Burn, Unrequited Love, Worry not, are these tags messy? yes, kind of, past johnil, taeil is susceptible to depression bouts like mine, taeil's a workaholic kind of, taeyong isn't even mentioned until over halfway in, unrequited jaeil, unrequited yutae, yeah it's got both sorry, yeah there are a lot of characters but half of them are either only mentioned or have one line max
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-07-05
Packaged: 2019-06-05 22:31:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15180770
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timelessidyll/pseuds/timelessidyll
Summary: Taeil didn't really want to feel like his world was crashing down around him. Certainly not, because he definitely wanted to be happy for Yoonoh and Dongyoung. There's no avoiding the source of his listlessness, but he's trying his best to do exactly that. Johnny's not having any of it. New you, new lifestyle, new love. Except not really, because it takes Taeil a while to figure out the last one. Taeyong's patient, though, and he's always thankful for that.





	differing warmth

**Author's Note:**

> so,,,,i tried to make this romance stem from a mutual appreciation of each other first? like there's no guarantee they'll last, but they want to try, ya know? anyway, i hope you enjoy!

To Taeil, Yoonoh was a fluffy blanket, fresh out of the dryer. Warm and comfortable, reminiscent of his childhood.

 

* * *

 

He should’ve known. And in the back of his head, he must have. But he’d ignored it, foolishly ignored it, to save his heart from the pain – even though he knew he would face it eventually. Taeil knew even before Yoonoh did that he had been in love. He’d known because he saw himself in Yoonoh whenever Dongyoung spoke, whenever he laughed, whenever Yoonoh thought he wasn’t looking. Taeil watched his longing stares in silence, his heart breaking as he did so, because he could never tell Yoonoh how he felt. Not when he knew that Dongyoung liked him just as much. Not when he knew that he didn’t stand a chance. Taeil knew the both of them better than they knew each other, and he knew how easily they fit together.

 

It came to a culmination a week before Dongyoung’s birthday. Taeil wanted to hate how sappy it was – asking him out on his birthday was the biggest cliché, and besides, why would Dongyoung want to be reminded of him every birthday if they broke up? – but the romantic in him loved it.

 

“Taeil-hyung, can I speak to you for a minute?” Taeil saw the hopefulness in Yoonoh’s eyes and felt his heart crack a little more.

 

“Of course, Yoonie-ah.” He kept his voice as light as he possibly could. “What do you need?” Yoonoh was being fidgety, and that didn’t escape Taeil’s attention. He tried to loosen his posture and keep his face from falling into its signature blankness.

 

“When Johnny-hyung asked you out, what did he do?” A pause of silence came after his question. Taeil was surprised by the direction the conversation took, although he hadn’t been entirely sure why Yoonoh had come to him in the first place, so he didn’t have many expectations to begin with. “Taeil-hyung?” He’d been quiet for too long. Taeil knew that any moment now, Yoonoh would curl in on himself, clam up from anxiety and tell him not to worry about it, that it was a dumb question.

 

“No, I’m fine, sorry. I was just a little surprised, that’s all,” he reassured. “Um, as for your question, he didn’t really do anything special. I would say the most effort he put in was bringing me a small bouquet and some chocolates. Why?” He knew why. The revelation had come to him as soon as he’d described what Johnny had done, and he tried to keep the sudden sickness he felt at bay. Yoonoh didn’t need this right now.

 

“I wanted to figure out how to ask Dongyoung out.” There it was. Taeil didn’t believe he had any chance now. “But what Johnny-hyung did was so plain. I don’t know if I should do that for Doie.” Taeil swallowed the lump in his throat.

 

“Dongyoung will love anything you do for him, Yoonie. Don’t worry so much.”

 

“I still want to make this special for him. I’ve loved him for over a year and I don’t want to mess this up.” Taeil didn’t bring up the fact that he’d loved him for two years, liked him for over a year before that.

 

“I think Dongyoung will appreciate your honesty. You’ve always been good at writing, so why not a letter to accompany your gift?”

 

“My writing doesn’t compare to your poems, Taeil-hyung. They never will.” ‘Stop making me fall for you, damn it,’ Taeil thought. He wanted to scream out of frustration at himself.

 

“He’ll love it.”

 

Taeil wished he didn’t know Dongyoung as well as he did. A week later, on his birthday, surrounded by close friends, Dongyoung read the letter Yoonoh wrote him and burst into tears, mumbling choked “yes”s over and over into Yoonoh’s shoulder. Taeil stayed only long enough to make sure Dongyoung enjoyed his gift, a new open hole flute to replace his centuries-old one and a few mango flavored treats, before he left to wallow in his own sadness. Too many what-ifs floated through his head, and Taeil knew that no matter what, Dongyoung and Yoonoh would’ve always found a way. He hadn’t been their best friend for eleven years for nothing.

 

He didn’t try to avoid the new couple, per se, and when they asked about it, Taeil made some excuse about not wanting to get in their way as they settled into their new roles. In a way, he hadn’t been lying. Dongyoung and Yoonoh were extremely awkward for people who had spent a majority of their life together, and he himself had more than enough paperwork to fill out for the vocal club. He already had to complete forms for the Club Showcase halfway through the year, and he needed to have them in by the second week of February. But Taeil knew himself, and he knew that the underlying reason had been because he didn’t want the reminder that he could never have Yoonoh. Johnny knew too.

 

“Alright, you’re done moping,” he announced, opening Taeil’s bedroom door with a flourish. His voice was far too loud, and Taeil winced when he heard it. Jaemin’s head popped out from his own bedroom, enthusiastically waving at Johnny.

 

“Hi, Johnny-hyung!”

 

“Jaemin-ah, how are you?” Taeil ignored them as he filled out another form.

 

“I’m just finishing up some English homework. Why are you here, hyung?”

 

“I needed to talk to Taeil. Keep going Jaemin-ah, and remember you can call me if you need help.”

 

“Thank you, Johnny-hyung!” Jaemin called as Johnny left to enter Taeil’s room, and Taeil hunched his shoulders more when Johnny shut the door behind him.

 

“Are you going to talk, or will I have to drag it out of you?” Johnny asked, arms folded across his chest and eyebrow raised. Taeil steadfastly continued his work, and when he lifted his pen to start another line, Johnny swiveled his chair around to face him. “I bet you can’t give me a single excuse why you’re holed up in your bedroom like this,” Johnny said, looking Taeil straight in the eye.

 

What Taeil couldn’t tell him was that he’d been unable to look Yoonoh in the face for the past week. He couldn’t tell him about the crushing weight in his heart, about the constant uneasiness of his stomach, about how he hadn’t eaten a full meal in days, not since a week before Dongyoung’s birthday. He couldn’t tell him that looking at Yoonoh and Dongyoung’s missed calls and texts and replying with false assurances two hours later was leaving a sour and bitter taste in his mouth.

 

“Yoonoh’s birthday is in three days,” he said instead, and Johnny tilted his head forward as if to encourage Taeil to elaborate. “I’ll talk to them then.”

 

“Taeil, you can’t keep thinking that distance will heal you,” Johnny interjected quietly, and Taeil squeezed his hands into fists in his lap.

 

“Funny how that’s exactly what you thought.” Johnny’s expression turned remorseful and he sighed.

 

“That’s why I know it’s useless to try.” He looked closer at Taeil and noticed how his hunched figure did nothing to hide the boniness of his shoulders. Maybe it was his imagination, but he looked thinner than usual. “You can't keep hiding yourself away.”

 

“I’m not ready yet, Johnny. I’m not sure I’ll ever be,” he choked out, the words getting stuck in his throat. It was hard to admit the extent of his heartbreak.

 

“Maybe you won’t ever be ready,” Johnny whispered, “but that sure doesn’t mean that you can go your whole life ignoring it.” They fell quiet and sat there, not quite looking at each other. Taeil got up from his chair to sit next to Johnny on the bed.

 

“What do you suggest I do then?”

 

“Sometimes it helps to leave it behind you with your past self.” Taeil looked at him strangely. “What I mean is reinvent yourself. That way it’ll be easier to leave behind your love for Yoonoh, because it’s part of the current you. It’s a characteristic of past you.”

 

“Leave behind three years of pining?” Taeil asked disbelievingly, “That’s a funny joke.”

 

“It is if you’re not willing to try.” Johnny’s wisdom made Taeil sober up, and he thought again about his guilt. He leaned into Johnny’s side, accepting the arm around his shoulder silently.

 

“How do I do it?”

 

“Do you have any gym clothes?”

 

“Probably not?” Taeil said, more of a question than a response. “Do I want to know why?”

 

“We’re going on a run.” Taeil’s head shot up and he gave Johnny a look of pure disgust. “It’s for your own good, I swear!” he explained, struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice. Taeil did not look convinced. “Listen, I promise I won’t go too hard on you, but in return, you have to put some effort into this, okay?” After almost two years, Taeil thought he’d gotten pretty good at resisting Johnny’s puppy eyes. Never had a more incorrect assumption been made.

 

“Fine,” he groaned, pushing at Johnny lightly as he got up when he started yelling in excitement. “Shut up, you’ll distract Jaemin.” His admonishing only made Johnny lower his voice, and he rolled his eyes as he pulled out one of only two pairs of shorts that he owned. “I’m gonna have to borrow a shirt from Jaemin, I’ll be back.”

 

“That’s kind of sa–,” was all Taeil heard before the door shut behind him. He peeked into Jaemin’s room to see if his brother was still there. He wasn’t sure why he checked, but Jaemin was still in there, struggling to finish the English homework he’d mentioned to Johnny.

 

“Nana, do you have a shirt I could borrow?” The question made Jaemin raise his eyebrow.

 

“What kind of shirt would you need from me, hyung?

 

“Johnny’s telling me to go on a run with him as part of his new initiative to get me to reinvent myself.” Taeil mocked him as he repeated Johnny’s idea, but Jaemin perked up.

 

“Does that mean you’ll finally stop playing sad songs?” From the closet, Taeil choked on air and turned around incredulously. “Sorry hyung, but I can only hear Reset, Please don’t…, and Error so many times before I begin to hate them.”

 

“VIXX are legends, how dare you!” Taeil grabbed a random shirt from Jaemin’s closet and stormed out in full dramatic fashion, feeling himself become a little lighter hearing Jaemin’s tinkling laughter behind him. He changed in the bathroom quickly before entering his room. Johnny was entertaining himself by throwing one of his pillows up and down. He looked up when Taeil came back and stood up excitedly.

 

“Wait, you really mean you’ll do it?”

 

“Well I didn’t really have a choice now, did I?” Taeil deadpanned, pushing Johnny out of the door. “You always look ready to play, so I’m assuming we just go?”

 

Johnny gave him a supportive smile. “Yup! I’ll keep it easy for you, we’ll only run three kilometers today.” Taeil’s jaw dropped.

 

“That’s more than I’ve run all year!”

 

“Which means we definitely need to stretch well. Come on, Taeillie-hyung!”

 

Maybe it was a good thing that Johnny made Taeil run, because the amount of athleticness in his whole body was equivalent to the athleticness of Johnny’s pinkie finger – Yoonoh’s too, but Taeil tried not to think about him. The result was Taeil practically dragging himself through the last kilometer despite taking frequent breaks, and although it didn’t sound like much, there was a strange thrumming in under his skin. He felt more alive now than he had in weeks, months even. He didn’t voice it, but he couldn’t stop himself from bouncing up and down on the balls of his feet.

 

“So, how was it?” Johnny asked, a smirk present on his face. He leaned against a nearby tree in the park they used.

 

“I think you can tell,” Taeil snarked. “I feel good though.”

 

“The only thing is you’ve got to commit to this, hyung.” Johnny’s tone lost a little bit of playfulness. “This kind of feeling only comes at the end of a workout well done, and it’s gonna suck to wake up tomorrow all sore and wish you’d never decided to do this.”

 

“I want to try. It was easier to feel lighter when I’m fully focused on something else,” he admitted. At some level, he knew it was unhealthy to completely ignore his lingering feelings, but it was so easy to throw himself into an activity and forget about the existence of his love.

 

“Then you don’t mind hitting the gym with me tomorrow?” Taeil made a strange face at the mention of the gym.

 

“A judgmental hellhole? No thank you.”

 

“Just between you and me,” Johnny whispered conspiratorially, “I think the same. But we all have to start somewhere. Then you can take a break for Yoonoh’s birthday.” There it was again. The constricting squeeze of his heart that came after every mention of his name. He pushed it aside, determination taking over. He wasn’t sure how long he could stay strong, but there was no time to start like the present. Johnny’s ideology was really getting to him.

 

“Fine. When are we going tomorrow?”

 

At 11 am the next morning, Taeil found himself at the gym, hating everything about running thanks to the cramps in his calves and thighs, and feeling thoroughly intimidated. Not necessarily by everyone else’s physical states, but rather by the equipment. It was big, shiny, and looked like it weighed five times more than he did. He knew Johnny would spot him for all of this, but that didn’t take away from the sense that he was about to get crushed. Both metaphorically and physically.

 

“Is this even safe?” He pointed at one of the stands with two heavy metal bars on them.

 

“Of course it is. Not for you yet.” Taeil couldn’t even deny that. “But once you gain some muscle, maybe after three weeks, we can test your beginning strength.”

 

“I resent the fact that you have so little faith in me.” He shouldn’t have opened his mouth, because Johnny raised an eyebrow at him challengingly.

 

“Can you even pick up a 2-kilogram weight?” Taeil glanced around for the weight shelves and strode over to it with as much purpose as he could muster. There were only seven other people here, so it wasn’t like it truly mattered how much of a fool he made of himself. He looked over the weights quickly to find the one that was 2 kilograms, and hesitantly he picked it up, immediately feeling a strain on his muscles. However, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he expected, and he was able to do a few curls like they taught them in gym class before he set it down, looking up at Johnny smugly.

 

“See? I can do that.” Johnny wasn’t too impressed.

 

“Well, at least now we know you can lift the most basic weight. Let’s get to work.” Over the next hour, Johnny threw so many unfamiliar exercises at Taeil that he stopped bothering to try and remember them. It all boiled down to soreness anyway. Johnny also mentioned which muscle each exercise focused on, and the only one Taeil remembered was the trapezius because it sounded like trapezoid and he found it funny. When Johnny let him go to towel off while he did some bench presses, Taeil was struck by the ease of which he benched 80 kilograms. It hit him again how much of a drastic turn his life had taken in only two days. When Johnny had first talked about creating a new him, Taeil thought he had only been talking about a changed body image. He realized now that Johnny meant changing his outlook too.

 

“Ready to go?” Johnny called when he stood up, finished with his sets.

 

“Yeah,” Taeil mumbled absently, thinking about his new revelation.

 

Yoonoh’s birthday the next day was a blur for him. Not only was he so sore that he had to focus all his attention on moving his limbs, but he had to hold civil conversation with the party-goers. Half of them were people he didn’t know because he never paid attention to who was on Yoonoh’s basketball team. The other half consisted of Sicheng, Johnny, Dongyoung, Kun, and Donghyuck. Yoonoh had been adamant that his teammates bring only themselves, which Taeil was infinitely thankful for because there was no way he would have been able to handle an impromptu club party

 

He held bits and pieces of memories. He knew he’d talked to Kun and Sicheng on the couch because that had been the first place he’d seen to sit down. Johnny kept shooting him sympathetic looks, obviously aware of how much pain Taeil was in, but he waved off his concern. He also saw Dongyoung’s concerned glances, and it occurred to Taeil that he’d never told his best friends about what he’d been doing.

 

“How have the past two weeks been, hm?” Taeil drawled out from behind Dongyoung, suppressing a giggle when Dongyoung jumped in surprise. He felt a sudden rush of embarrassment when Dongyoung turned around and started scolding him for dropping off the face of the Earth.

 

“I’m sorry I made both of you worry,” he apologized when he sensed a break in Dongyoung’s tirade. “It wasn’t fair to you guys to not know why I kept rejecting our hangouts, but I was dealing with some things. I’ve got most of it sorted out now, but I still need some time.” Taeil gave himself a mental pat on the back for such a coherent explanation for something so dumb, and it seemed like Dongyoung bought into it because his scolding expression relaxed.

 

“That’s alright, hyung, but let us know next time. We were really worried something bad had happened.” Maybe not bad by anyone else’s standards, but soul-crushing for him at least.

 

“I’ve never seen a couple more awkward,” Taeil teased in an attempt to lighten the mood, and Dongyoung took the bait easily. They fell back into their old banter as if nothing had gone wrong.

 

It was different confronting Yoonoh. Distance had helped lessen the ache in his heart only slightly, but when Taeil opened his arms for a hug, a tentative smile on his face asking if they were okay again, Yoonoh’s touch burned through his clothes. He knew it would hurt to see them together, comfortable and completely unaware of his own emotions, and yet he was still left reeling. The last memory he had was of Yoonoh’s bright smile when he opened Taeil’s gift: a piano book of various IU songs. He couldn’t forget it even if he tried.

 

The expression “time heals all wounds” seemed to take its sweet time applying to Taeil’s situation. He diligently went to the gym with Johnny every other day, or at the very least three times a week if homework piled up and responsibilities arose from the vocal club. He ran about five days a week, carefully following the plan he and Johnny had pulled up together. Johnny came with him often in the first few weeks to show him how to properly stretch and cool down, and soon he was running alone by mid-April. Taeil steadily built up his stamina, building up a few kilometers every other week. In May, he started using recovery and adaptive weeks when the running got more intense. He almost didn’t notice that he was running twenty kilometers per week.

 

The change in Taeil was easy to see from the outside. The skinniness he’d always had filled out a little more and became leaner. Johnny had been the first to bring it to his attention, and while Taeil was never one to put too much importance in his physical features, he was proud of how his efforts were paying off. Besides that, he played acoustic guitar for the band, and throughout it all tried not to let Dongyoung and Yoonoh’s closeness affect him as much. It was admittedly getting easier and he felt less pain than he used to, but it was still there. It was still there, and that’s why it still sucked to hang out with his best friends.

 

Almost four months had passed since Yoonoh and Dongyoung’s birthdays, and Taeil only realized a few days before that his birthday was almost here as well. Which meant Dongyoung and Yoonoh were planning something. Which meant he would need to hide at Kun’s house because Dongyoung wouldn’t stop pestering him about it.

 

Kun opened the door to see Taeil glancing around furtively. He debated for a moment asking what he was doing here before Taeil pushed him back inside, stepped in, and closed the door behind him, all the while looking like a fugitive on the lam.

 

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “So why do you look like you just killed someone?”

 

“I didn’t kill anyone, but Dongyoung might kill me,” Taeil hissed, turning him around and leading him further into his house. Kun’s own house. As if Taeil knew it better than he did.

 

“What did you do this time?”

 

“I haven’t done anything, and I resent that you would think so lowly of me as a friend.”

 

“You got me there, Taeil-gē.”

 

“Stop being yourself for a few seconds. My birthday is soon and I never do anything for it, and Dongyoung hates it, so he always tries to convince me otherwise. And even though Yoonoh tries to stay neutral, he always ends up on Dongyoung’s side.” Ouch, that hurt to think about. “So I’m hiding out here until it all passes over.” Kun steered them into his living room.

 

“Your birthday is in three days, and you’ll avoid them the whole time?” Taeil bopped his nose lightly.

 

“That’s right, Kun-ah. Don’t worry you won’t even notice I’m here.”

 

“I’m more worried about Dongyoung coming after me for harboring you.” What Taeil didn’t know was that Dongyoung had already roped Kun into his plan. For the next two days, Taeil did his utmost to avoid Dongyoung and Yoonoh so that he didn’t have to argue with them about how he celebrated his birthday. It was impossible to do that during vocal practice after school, but Taeil exercised his power as club leader and made sure that Kun, Jungwoo, and Kenta were with him for practice. And on June 13th, the band had a performance almost all of the evening, so Taeil was saved from facing Dongyoung until his birthday. It was his own mistake to lower his guard at the last moment.

 

Taeil barely had a chance to step outside of his house before two gifts were shoved in his face. A clamor of two voices accompanied them and it took a bit for him to focus on his friend’s faces.

 

“Taeil, my gift is infinitely better, so open it first!” Yoonoh chimed over Dongyoung, pushing his boyfriend’s face away, and by extension, his body and gift. With wide eyes, Taeil looked between both of them nervously, unsure of whose side to take. He took Yoonoh’s gift after some deliberation, and he laughed when Dongyoung’s face fell into a pout and Yoonoh gave him a smug stare.

 

“Ha, in your face Doie! Taeil-hyung does like me more!” Strangely, that statement didn’t make any butterflies explode in Taeil’s stomach, but he pushed that aside for the moment. He blocked out the sound of the bickering couple and opened the gift to find a neatly packaged album of Lemonade inside.

 

“A legendary album for a legendary singer,” Yoonoh chirped happily when he saw Taeil’s surprise. “I’m sure you were expecting SHINee, but I thought this was funnier.”

 

“Hey, Dongyoung, how does it feel to have your boyfriend call me the legendary singer?” he asked, no real malice in his tone as he slipped an arm around Yoonoh’s shoulders. All he felt was a slight tingle. Strange again.

 

“I think he’s right.” The second gift gets put in his hands. “Now open mine!” Dongyoung’s gift was much smaller, and Taeil opened it with not even the faintest clue of what could be inside. A new pick? A keychain? Dongyoung always gave the oddest but most useful things. Safe to say, not even in his wildest dreams would Taeil have thought that Dongyoung would get him a block with a quote inscribed on it. He read it quietly to himself, taking in the muted neutral tones of the moon and the stunning vividness of the stars around it.

 

“Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you’ll end up amongst the stars.” He looked up questioningly.

 

“You’ve been working really hard these past few months, hyung,” is all Dongyoung offered in explanation. Taeil left it at that.

 

Kenta gave him a copy of Kimi No Na Wa for the sole reason that the two of them had coincidentally ended up watching it one day together, and Taeil appreciated the fact that Kenta had even thought about giving a gift to him. Sicheng gave him a keychain, a happy-faced moon, and Taeil laughed at the comicality of it. Jaemin had left a new guitar book on the counter since he’d left before Taeil had, but he got a call shortly after he left school asking about whether he’d liked it or not. Kun gave him a package of different Chinese desserts he’d handmade for Taeil to try, and Johnny treated him to ice cream after the left. It made him a little uneasy how many people had remembered his birthday, already trying to think about how much unnecessary money had been spent on him, but Johnny took one look at his face while they were eating and kicked him from under the table.

 

“I can hear your mind calculating, don’t even try,” he reprimanded, shoving another spoonful of mint ice cream in his mouth. Taeil tried to argue, but he got cut off. “Nope, just accept it. If you complain, Dongyoung will do something even more extravagant.” He shut up.

 

Johnny dropped Taeil off at his house with a grin on his face, the kind that he knew something that Taeil didn’t. Warily, he entered his house, confused that the lights were fully lit. The only surprise he got was Jaemin jumping out from behind a corner to give him a hug and a loud shout of “Happy birthday!” into his ear. Taeil struggled under his brother’s height, once again being reminded that Jaemin was the taller of the two of them.

 

“Hyung, we should go to the park!” The excitement was clear in Jaemin’s eyes, and Taeil didn’t feel like killing his mood.

 

“Sure, we can go.” Taeil had forgotten about being wary. He shouldn’t have, because his birthday still wasn’t over. Everything was fine on the walk there. Jaemin was more bubbly than usual, but Taeil chalked it up to him being thrilled about his birthday. It wasn’t strange for other people to be more excited about his birthday than him. The deeper they walked into the park, the less he suspected something. And that’s when it happened.

 

“Surprise!” came a multitude of voices from all around him, and in his sudden shock, Taeil ducked out of instinct, crouching on the balls of his feet as he took in his situation. Dongyoung and Yoonoh had organized a whole surprise picnic. There were five blankets stretched out on the grass covered with food and desserts, and hanging in between two trees was a happy birthday banner. He stared, speechless, as Johnny, the vocal club, and his two best friends came out from behind the trees, and then he pointed an accusing finger at Jaemin, who was bouncing in place next to him.

 

“You’re a little devil,” he hissed, embarrassment coloring the tips of his ears red. He stood up to give his brother a punch in the shoulder and then turned to the others. He set his glare on Dongyoung.

 

“I’ve told you so many times I hate doing things for my birthday,” he whined, glancing again at all the effort that had gone into a simple picnic. “You guys didn’t have to do this much!” Dongyoung held his hands up in surrender, visibly fighting back a smile.

 

“It was Yoonoh’s idea, blame him!”

 

“Wow, throwing me under the bus babe?” Yoonoh joked, mocking hurt by placing a hand dramatically over his heart. Taeil expected his heart to constrict, but all he felt was a slight pressure. He sighed and glanced around at everyone else.

 

“Well, I guess since we’re here now, let’s enjoy it. But,” he warned, holding up a hand, “don’t start thinking I’m okay with this happening again.”

 

August came in the blink of an eye, and with it came preparations for the Club Showcase in November. Taeil had been in the middle of discussing with the other club members about song choices and potential line distributions, if they would do groups and solos or a full club song, or if they wanted to get help producing something when Johnny burst into their room.

 

“Taeil, you’re going to love this idea.” Taeil immediately made a face.

 

“Coming from you, I doubt it.”

 

“No, this will be great. I even checked it over with the dean.” Taeil and Kun frowned at each other as the other members started hushed whispers. To get something experimental approved by the dean was like trying to scale a mountain with a single grappling hook. “You guys and the dance club should do a collaboration for the showcase.”

 

Taeil blinked slowly. “A… a collab?” he questioned. His astoundment made his thought process slow down. “What would we even collab on?”

 

“I was thinking that they could make a choreo for a song you choose! That way they can show off their skills as choreographers and you guys show off your singing in an exciting new way!”

 

“I like dancing,” Kenta chimed in happily, and Jungwoo and Minhyun agreed quickly. Dongho, Dongyoung, and Kun were hesitant, and Longguo didn’t particularly care.

 

“We’ll get back to you on this, Johnny-hyung,” Dongyoung offered, getting up from his seat to herd him towards the door. “Not all of us agree yet, and this is a big decision.”

 

“That's alright, take your time. Well, not too long since you still need to prepare and stuff if you decide to do it. I’m gonna go tell the dance club.” Taeil slumped in his seat and sighed heavily. He waited until Johnny was gone and Dongyoung was back in his seat to start speaking.

 

“Alright, let me hear your concerns. Personally, I want to give the collab a shot, but it’s important that we’re all on board.” Kun’s problem was that adding on the extra task of dancing would limit their vocal range, making higher notes more difficult. Dongyoung was skeptical of how cohesive the idea was to begin with, and Dongho worried that they would strain their lungs too much if they had to practice both dancing and singing.

 

“These are all problems that we would need the cooperation of the dance club to resolve,” he summarized, “But I think we can ask for a meeting beforehand to hash out the finer details. We’ll give them a day to think about it, and then Kun and I will set up a time to discuss things with their club president and vice president. Acceptable?” A round of murmured agreements reached his ears, and he sighed again, ready to be done with the day. “Then everyone can go. I’ll send an email to all of you about our decision, if our concerns are met with solutions.” It didn’t even take until the following afternoon for Taeil to get a call from an unknown number.

 

“Hello,” he huffed into his phone, stopping his run to lean against a nearby bench. “Who is this?” He strained to hear the response over his heavy breathing.

 

“Um, is this Moon Taeil-ssi?” an uncertain voice asked. “I’m Lee Taeyong, president of the dance club.” Taeil’s mouth dropped a little in surprise.

 

“Oh, Taeyong-ssi. I’m sorry for my condition, you caught me on the end of my run.”

 

“I’m sorry for my timing, but I wanted to ask about your opinion on the idea?”

 

“Well you see,” Taeil said as he licked his dried lips, “we’re still considering it. Some members had some concerns about the collab, so I was wondering if we could have an impromptu meeting about it.”

 

“That’s fine with me, Taeil-ssi. Do you have a specific time or date in mind?”

 

“Not particularly. But I would like to resolve this as soon as possible, so are you and your vice president available tonight? I can send you the address of my house.” That was that. Taeil had never talked to the dance club and he didn’t know any of their members, so this would be quite the interesting collab if they went through with it. He called Kun quickly to tell him about the meeting and decided that he needed to make his house look like an IKEA magazine.

 

At half past six, the doorbell rang, and since Kun was already here, Taeil could only assume it was one of the dancers. One of them, because he had no idea what any of them looked like. The door opened on someone who managed to be even skinnier than he was. Taeil’s eyes caught on the dyed white hair and almost refused to move. The roots weren’t showing, only the smallest hint at the base of his hair, so it must have been fresh. His brain shut down, and before he could try to think of a polite greeting, he blurted, “You have nice hair.” He promptly wanted to sink into the ground and let it swallow him whole. The other boy pulled back a little out of shock before he recomposed himself and smiled, a confused tug of his lips.

 

“Thank you? I just dyed it four days ago.” Taeil bit his lip to prevent himself from saying anything else embarrassing. “I’m Taeyong, the one who called you.”

 

“Come in, Taeyong-ssi. Are you younger than me?”

 

“Um, I think so? You’re a senior, right?”

 

“Yes. Then call me hyung, there’s no need to be this formal.”

 

“Alright, hyung. Yuta will be coming shortly, he got a little held up.”

 

“That’s fine, Taeyong-ah. Kun’s here, so we can start now and catch him up later.” Taeil led Taeyong into their dining room. Kun glanced over and greeted Taeyong with a warm smile.

 

“Kun-ah, this is Taeyong-ah. Yuta-ssi should be here shortly, but we can discuss the problems that arose. Of course, if you have concerns, Taeyong-ah, you’re free to share them.” Kun cut straight to the point when they sat down.

 

“Our biggest issue is how the choreo will affect our singing and tone quality. If we were to make this a reality, which I’m not against, mind you, we would need the confirmation that whatever choreo you create won’t interfere too much with our primary talent. Dancing is secondary to us in this arrangement.”

 

“We would definitely be willing to work with you on that front. I had a question about how exactly we would organize this. What exactly is the role of the dance club?” Taeil and Kun looked at each other, frowning.

 

“Johnny never really specified his idea. I’m assuming we collaborate for a combination of our talents? If we teach other the necessary skills, then we could team up. How many members do you have?” Taeil asked, tapping his finger on the table absently as he thought.

 

“We have eight members.” Kun looked over at Taeil with satisfaction in his smile.

 

“That works out perfectly. We have eight members as well, so we can pair up for vocal and dancing lessons.”

 

“It does sound tempting,” Taeil admitted. “Another member was worried about how we would practice for both without straining our lungs too much. No offense to my club members, but none of them are really that fit. The most physical exertion they get is hitting F5,” he deadpanned, although the joke seemed to fly over Taeyong’s head. Kun laughed though, so it wasn’t a total failure.

 

“I think if we staggered the time right, we would be able to avoid ruining your voices.”

 

“This goes for you as well,” Kun argued. “If we’re going to make this equal on both of our parts, we have to make sure your voices stay in shape too.” They were interrupted by a knock on the door, and Taeil got up to usher Yuta inside so that the conversation didn’t slack too much. He noticed Taeyong sat up a little straighter when he came back with his vice president.

 

“Thank you for making it, Yuta-ssi,” Kun said. He gave an overview of what had already been said, and Yuta took it all in while nodding his head.

 

“It seems most of our problems have been resolved,” he directed to Taeyong, happily leaning back. “Was there something else you guys wanted to compromise on?”

 

“Not particularly.” It was vague, but Taeil was still busy trying to tie up the loose threads in his head to figure out what was left. “Dongyoung was a little worried about how we would execute this, so if we could come up with a tentative plan to run by our clubs, that would probably put everyone at ease. Kun, could you get a piece of paper and pen?”

 

“I’m thinking we should start as soon as possible. Next week, we should start fleshing out compatibility between our members, see who complements who,” Kun said as he walked around to find the paper.

 

“Sounds reasonable enough. Do you guys have competitions to prepare for?” Yuta asked.

 

“We have a pretty major one in October. Our time will be thin in the weeks leading up to it, and we won’t be singing much so that we preserve our voices.” Taeil took the paper and divided it up into months and to-do lists for each.

 

“So we should partner up and decide on how this will be split up. Do we want to have groups?” Taeyong asked, already thinking about the choreography they would need to stitch together.

 

“That would definitely be easier for a choreography,” Yuta added. “You guys probably don’t have much experience, and we don’t want to overwhelm you.”

 

“How do you feel about three groups? Two of six and one of four.” Taeil and Kun glanced at each other, coming to a quick agreement.

 

“That sounds fine. It’ll be easy on us for splitting up parts too. Each group should have a song picked out by the end of the week, and then for the next month we’ll focus on teaching each other how to sing and dance.”

 

“And two months for practicing and pulling it all together,” Taeyong finished. Taeil pointed the end of his pen at him.

 

“Exactly. Wonderful, we have a plan. We can start immediately with a joint meeting if that’s okay?” Taeil asked, passing the makeshift schedule around to let everyone check it.

 

“That sounds fine,” Taeyong agreed, and it was a relief for Taeil to finally get their plan in motion. The warm-up was over and they were in it for the long run.

 

Partners were chosen easily enough. Taeil and Taeyong ended up being so engrossed in helping their members find people compatible with each other’s ranges that they ended up isolating themselves. They’d already split up the others into the two groups of six with the intention that each group had at least one lower voice when Taeil realized that their group of four was missing two people. He stopped Taeyong.

 

“Are we missing members?” Taeyong took one look at his tired expression and confusion and decided against giving him a hard time.

 

“We are the last two members, hyung. Everyone else has already been placed in groups.” The information registered in Taeil’s frazzled mind. He was stressed from finishing applications and trying to hurriedly determine vocal ranges, and he was sure that the people around him could see the moment he sagged in defeat.

 

“Yeah, ok, that’s our group now, Taeyong-ah. I’m done.” He turned around, missing the smile that almost came across Taeyong’s face. “Alright, your groups need to pick out songs by the end of the week so that the dancers can choreo the parts and you can teach each other. Everyone understand?” The scattered confirmations were enough.

 

“Then you guys are free to do whatever. Stick around and discuss the song now or tell us later, it doesn’t matter. For the rest of the months until the showcase, we’ll be having joint meetings.” Taeil shot Taeyong a frown. They hadn’t discussed this, but at the same time, he knew that was what they should be doing. He let it go.

 

They met three days to work as a group and the vocal club met the other two days alone to prepare for their October competition. Their group of him, Taeyong, Jungwoo, and Taehyun had decided on FOOL by Winner, and Taeyong and Taehyun had come up a tentative choreo that they could potentially use. If Jungwoo and Taeil’s voices could handle the notes with the dance’s intensity. Taeil did alright, for the most part, used to the strain and burn of his lungs as he danced and adapting well to the addition of singing. Jungwoo had more difficulty, but the extra time they allotted to adjusting the choreo for Jungwoo allowed Taeil to go around and check up on how the other groups were holding up. He checked with his own members to see how they were handling everything, and it was to his relief that they didn’t have many objections. Even Kun and Dongho were beginning to enjoy the challenge. All in all, very smooth sailing for something they had scraped together.

 

Taeil couldn’t breathe. He thought he’d been doing better, that after his realization on his birthday he’d gotten over Yoonoh. But he saw Dongyoung waiting for Yoonoh after his basketball practice and suddenly everything came crashing down. He didn’t stick around to see Yoonoh because he knew from Dongyoung’s relaxed stance that he’d done this a hundred times. The ceiling had never looked so interesting. Heartbreak didn’t look good on him, he knew that. He stopped responding to calls and texts (again), stopped hanging out with Dongyoung and Yoonoh (again), evaded Jaemin and Johnny because he knew what they would do and he just wanted to wallow in his misery for a while (again). He left for runs early and came back late, he stayed in his room “studying,” which was really just an excuse to be left alone, and he spent as much time as possible practicing. And he knew everyone was starting to get worried again, but the most he could do to put anyone at ease was leave Jaemin a note every time he left the house. And he knew this behavior could easily become self-destructive, but he couldn’t stop.

 

On accident, Taeyong stumbled upon him in the practice room, running over the same part of the choreo again and again, hoping that by running out of breath he could finally think a little more clearly. They froze when they saw each other, unsure what to do. Taeil stared him in the eye, ignoring the sweat that was beading down his face, daring him to stop whatever he was doing, and Taeyong seemed to give in. He didn’t say a word as he set his bag against the wall and sat next to it, and neither did Taeil when he went to rewind the music. Every so often, Taeyong called out something that Taeil could fix, but he remained silent besides that. There was a sort of understanding on his face that Taeil recognized. It was another forty minutes until Taeil collapsed next to him, desperately draining his water bottle even after he’d refilled it three times. Taeyong’s gaze remained fixed on the mirror. Taeil’s head fell to rest on his shoulder.

 

“So this is where you’ve been.”

 

“I’ve been around more places than this,” Taeil gasped, still catching his breath. “Why else do you think you only just found me?”

 

“So what’s got you running yourself into the ground, hyung?” It was an open question, one that Taeil felt Taeyong had done intentionally. He wasn’t trying to pry.

 

“Unrequited love is a bitch,” was Taeil’s hoarse answer, and Taeyong offered a dry chuckle.

 

“I can toast to that.” It was quiet again. “You should call me next time you wanna do this. It’s better that you get help from a second pair of eyes.”

 

“Maybe.” They left it at that.

 

It got better, if only because Taeyong felt nonjudgmental enough for Taeil to confide in. He didn’t tell him much, only that sometimes he felt too overwhelmed to sit still, and Taeyong always offered to go to the practice room to get rid of the idle energy. Taeil slowly became more comfortable over the course of three weeks, bringing more casual conversation and more easily beginning their talks. He slowly integrated himself back into the dynamic he’d settled into over the past few months, and he apologized for disappearing (again) and making them worry (again). The only person he told more of the details to was Johnny, but the look of pity he got made him shrink away. He didn’t want that. He only wanted to stop feeling the need to claw at his chest when he saw Dongyoung and Yoonoh together. He only wanted to be happy for them without the bittersweetness of it all.

 

Sometimes, it wasn’t that good. Taeil wasn’t immune to stress, and the days that blurred by seemed to go faster and faster until suddenly the competition was that very week and Taeil felt like the world was on his shoulders. He had to worry about his members, and he needed to make sure Jaemin would be alright, and he needed to make plans for the showcase next month and it all felt like too much. He pulled out his phone, preparing to text the group chat he was in with Yoonoh and Dongyoung. He hesitated. He didn’t want to worry them at – he glanced at the clock – 12:54 in the morning. He knew that they were busy, what with Dongyoung having student assembly duties and Yoonoh having basketball practice for three hours, and he didn’t want to wake them because he knew they would stumble over to his house to comfort him. In the middle of the night. When they were exhausted and sleep deprived. His thumb hovered over Johnny’s contact before dismissing the thought. He knew he had no right to complain to his ex in the middle of the night about his unrequited crush. Especially because that crush was the reason they never quite worked out. He absently ended up clicking on Taeyong's contact and was surprised to see he was online. The text bubble showed up.

 

TY: you’re up??

 

TI: got a lot on my mind

 

TY: oh

TY: wanna talk about it??

 

TI: not really emotional

TI: just a lot of things coming up making me stressed

 

TY: mind if i show you how i relax?

 

TI: might as well

 

TY: great, i’ll be over in ten

 

TI: wait

TI: what

TI: taeyong what are you doing

 

TY: well i’m About to start driving so

TY: unless you want me to crash

 

TI: …

TI: fine.

 

Taeil tiptoed down the stairs, being careful not to wake his parents or Jaemin, and slipped on his shoes before easing the door open and waiting outside for Taeyong. Eleven minutes later, Taeyong was walking down the sidewalk to his house, and when he saw that Taeil was already waiting for him, he motioned for him to come and join. Taeil made sure his eye roll was obvious from the distance Taeyong was at before he complied.

 

“Come on, I parked my motorcycle farther down. I didn’t want to get your parents mad.”

 

“You brought your motorcycle?” Taeil asked with a raised eyebrow. “How did you not get in trouble?”

 

“My parents are heavy sleepers,” Taeyong said with a cheeky grin. Taeil thought he looked a little overdressed in a dark red windbreaker and black jeans, but that didn’t mean he didn’t look good. He remembered that he had left a jacket inside. He glanced back and just as quickly dismissed the thought; it wasn’t worth the effort to get it now. Taeyong’s motorcycle was a simple black, but the way the light made the edges shine in the darkness made it seem more dangerous. Taeyong saw him hesitate and chuckled.

 

“Don’t worry, you won’t get hurt. I brought an extra helmet, and you can even wrap your arms around me if you need to,” he said, side-eyeing Taeil with an unidentifiable expression on his face that Taeil most closely related to smug satisfaction. Like Taeyong had already achieved some unspecified goal. He shoved him the back, causing Taeyong to pitch forward before he caught himself on the motorcycle handlebars.

 

“Rude!” he whined, throwing the helmet at Taeil and strapping his own on. “I’m taking you somewhere calm, the least you could do is pretend to enjoy my attempts.”

 

“Sorry,” Taeil snickered. He got on behind Taeyong, careful of how his leg went over the seat to make sure he didn’t hit anything.

 

“Seriously though, if you need to, hang on to me. Better that than you flying off.” Taeyong started the engine, and the sudden jerk of the motorcycle made Taeil jump to take Taeyong up on his offer.

 

“I already hate this,” he said to himself. It was different traveling the same roads on a motorcycle. More exhilarating, he thought. A particularly sharp turn made his arms tighten around Taeyong. He brought him to a park, one that he’d been to before but wasn’t able to go on runs through because it was too far from his house. Taeyong stopped them and dismounted, giving space for Taeil to get off too. The chill of the night air had become more noticeable to him after their ride, and he rubbed his forearms to try and get rid of the worst of the goosebumps.

 

“So what’s your recipe to calm?” he asked, looking around the completely empty park, only lit by lamps situated in far intervals. “Because all this makes me think of is a kidnapping setup.”

 

“I just walk through the park. It seems really stupid, I know, I can see it on your face. But the stars are a little brighter here compared to Seoul, so it makes me feel a little better walking beneath them.” Taeil looked up then, and sure enough, there were faint glimmers in the sky. He’d never really looked closely at them.

 

“You’ve talked about Seoul before. Did you live there?” Taeil asked as they started down a path.

 

“Yeah, I did. Until I was thirteen. I’ve been dancing since I was five.”

 

“No wonder you’re so confident. You’ve racked up a lot of experience.”

 

“That makes me sound like a video game character,” Taeyong snorted. “How long have you been singing?”

 

“Since I was nine. You haven’t seen my trophies yet.”

 

“And you say I’m confident, throwing those achievements around like ‘Oh yeah, so maybe I’m a lyrical genius.’” The traded banter back and forth, and Taeil learned a lot about Taeyong he never thought about. He found out that Taeyong was an obvious dog person, that he would absolutely die for green tea ice cream, and that he spent more time cleaning than even his mother did. Taeil shared his own facts, that he was a cat person, played the guitar, and hated the muscle pains that came after strength workouts. He noticed that the tenseness he’d been plagued with before had relaxed a little. Everything didn’t seem so daunting anymore.

 

“Who was it?” Taeil was taken aback at the unexpected question, but he knew exactly what Taeyong was trying to ask. It was an open question, just like the day in the studio. He recomposed himself and waited until they were in between the lamps to answer so that Taeyong didn’t see the defeated acceptance on his face.

 

“Yoonoh.”

 

“Ah.” They stopped, still in the dark.

 

“Who was it?” Now it was Taeil’s turn to ask. He saw the shape of Taeyong’s mouth open and close a few times.

 

“Yuta.”

 

“Ah.”

 

“How are you doing?” Taeyong asked in a low voice, barely above a raspy whisper. Taeil thought about the nights he stared at the pictures of him and Yoonoh and the subsiding hurt. He thought about that hurt being filled up with new happiness, from both Yoonoh and Dongyoung but also Taeyong and Kun and Sicheng. He thought that maybe it was time to put his love for Yoonoh behind him completely.

 

“I think I’m doing good. Almost there.” Taeyong’s lips curled into a relaxed smile, content with that answer. “You?”

 

“It took a while. I’m good now.” Taeil nodded, rubbing his arms more. The past forty minutes better not have ruined his voice, he thought angrily. He would rather not be sick the week of his biggest competition. He tore his gaze from the trees he’d been staring at when he saw Taeyong wave his red windbreaker at him a little sheepishly.

 

“I should’ve done this earlier. You look cold, and it would suck to get sick this close to a competition.”

 

“You remember that?” Taeil asked out of surprise, hesitantly taking the windbreaker and slipping it on. It fit almost perfectly, just a little long.

 

“Well,” Taeyong’s tongue poked out of his mouth to lick his lips. “I remember that you had one in October, and it would make sense why you’re so stressed right now.” Taeil was a little easier on Taeyong’s waist when they rode back. He rested his forehead on the nape of the younger’s neck, breathing deeply to remind himself that it wasn’t the end of the world. That he could make it through this. The thought that Taeyong smelled like vanilla entered his mind unbidden, but it was calming nonetheless. They arrived on his street at 2:07, and Taeil felt like his body was ready to collapse. He took off the windbreaker, insisting that Taeyong take it back so that he wouldn’t get cold on the ride back to his own house. After some reluctance, Taeyong agreed. Taeil fell asleep the moment he hit his bed, telling himself that if he wanted to keep worrying he would have to do it at a more reasonable time. Like one in the afternoon the next day.

 

It was more comfortable to speak to Taeyong daily after that. As if baring their heartache was some messed up way of gaining camaraderie. He was fine with their friendship, though, because he liked the way Taeyong would snort at some pun he’d come across on his phone and how he always had an extra water bottle for Taeil because he knew that Taeil always forgot his. When they won the vocal competition, Taeyong’s number was the second he called, after Johnny of course, but before Jaemin. He didn’t think about it too hard because the excitement was making him lightheaded in the way victory did.

 

He only started thinking about how the thought of Taeyong made him feel warmer when they had a week until the showcase. This time, Taeil was at ease, fully confident that they at least had a decent act assembled to present at the Club Showcase. It also meant he had more than enough time to think that this feeling was different. Different from Yoonoh, from Johnny, and from his friends.

 

“It’s strange, Sicheng,” he confided when they went out for a quick run to the convenience store. Sicheng looked at him weirdly.

 

“What do you mean it’s different though?” Taeil was glad he was even trying to help.

 

“Yoonoh was comfortably warm, like a blanket. Johnny was like basking in the sun. Dongyoung and you are like,” he stopped abruptly. “This is gonna sound weird, but like hot food. It just makes you feel comfortable, understood I guess.”

 

Sicheng narrowed his eyes. “Thanks?”

 

“My point is that he doesn’t feel like any of those things. I’ve got categories, and he doesn’t fit them.”

 

“So I’m gonna take a wild guess and say that you have a crush on him.” That earned him a glare. “It seems likely!” Sichend defended himself as they walked out of the store. “You could at least consider it.”

 

“The thing is, Sicheng, I don’t know. Whether I like him or if it’s really what I want.”

 

“Well, do you respect him?”

 

“Yeah? Why wouldn’t I? He’s capable, hardworking, always trying to help, and he’s selfless.”

 

“Selfless how?”

 

“He’s never hesitated to help me, even in the middle of the night.” Sicheng didn’t reply to him right away. Taeil looked over at him curiously.

 

“I’m gonna tell you that’s not normal Taeyong behavior,” Sicheng finally said. “Yuta told me before that Taeyong would drop everything to come and help him when he needed it, but he was slower in helping others. Not that he didn’t, of course. But he would wait for a more reasonable time or until he was done with his own thing.” Taeil froze mid-step, the tip of his shoe barely touching the ground. He took the information with a grain of salt, but he remembered what Taeyong said.

 

“Hey, Johnny?”

 

“Taeil, it’s the middle of the night.”

 

“Actually, it’s only 10:25. I know you always tell me not to worry about it, but I wanted to say I’m sorry.”

 

“You’re gonna have to be clearer than that, my brain’s mush right now.”

 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t love you the way you deserved to be loved. You were trying your hardest to make us work, and I put in effort too, but I think I never saw the point because you didn’t make me feel like Yoonoh did. I didn’t realize that I could feel the same type of love in different ways.”

 

“I always told you not to apologize because I understood that you were never over Yoonoh in the time we were together. I accept, but I’ve already forgiven you.”

 

“I know. I just needed to say it for myself.”

 

“Does this have anything to do with Taeyong?”

 

“Why does everyone think I like Taeyong?”

 

“You’ve mentioned him more than you’ve mentioned Yoonoh. And you mention Yoonoh a lot. Also, you keep texting him, even if you guys just saw each other. And –,”

 

“– I think I get it.”

 

“Good. I could go on all night.”

 

“No you couldn’t, you’d fall asleep in two minutes.”

 

“I’m feeling attacked.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“Anytime. Actually, no not anytime. Because I need to sleep. Good night.”

 

Their performance of FOOL was almost flawless. Taeil tripped a little because of an awkward spin, but he’d covered it up nicely. Jungwoo’s mic cut out for a bit at one point, but that wasn’t his fault, so they had to continue regardless. It wasn’t at an important verse, thankfully, but it still made Taeil a little mad. Taeyong and Taehyun were flawless in their dancing, as per usual, although Taehyun’s high note had warbled a little. It was alright, though. He didn’t expect perfection, and he knew that Taeyong didn’t either. Johnny, Yoonoh, and Sicheng had all been sitting in the third row together, and Taeil had tried to look at them at every given opportunity so that he could mouth a thank you of support. He caught Taeyong’s eye under the spotlight, and something about it seemed so right. The way the light fell on him like it was meant to, the way his shirt clung to him, a sign of a job well done, the way he’s shone because he knew that was a performance that dazzled the audience.

 

Dongyoung and Kun’s groups were amazing, and Taeil felt so proud in that moment that he hugged everyone. Everyone, including the dance team members, including Johnny and Yoonoh and Sicheng, including Taeyong. He hardly even reacted to Yoonoh and Dongyoung from how busy he was talking to Taeyong about anything and everything because Taeyong was one of the reasons he was happiest. That was the thought that made him realize that maybe he didn’t want to restrict himself to Taeyong’s friend. Everything was a blur, something that his harried mind did all too often, and he tried to ground himself in that moment. Take the time to understand what he might do. He focused on Taeyong’s smile and then –

 

“Taeil, let’s go out for a celebratory dinner!” Taeil froze with his mouth slightly open, just about to get the word out. He struggled to process what Johnny had asked, but when he finally understood, he couldn’t help but want to scream. He took a deep breath, reminding himself that he was about to do this on a whim anyway, so it was probably for the best that he’d been interrupted.

 

“Sure,” Taeil said noncommittally, but Taeyong, standing right in front of him, saw the vague irritation on his face. He leaned in until he mouth was next to Taeil’s ear, making him stop breathing for a moment from the sudden proximity.

 

“You don’t really want to go, do you?” he whispered, low enough that if he hadn’t been so close, Taeil wouldn’t have heard him.

 

“Not in the slightest.” His voice was airy, matching his thoughts.

 

“Wanna go somewhere else?” Taeyong had pulled back, finally giving Taeil the much-needed space his lungs screamed for. It almost didn’t matter since his mischievous smile stole the breath from him again. He didn’t think before he spoke.

 

“Like a date?” Taeil blinked, paused, had flashbacks to the first time he’d met Taeyong face-to-face and thought about his hair so much that he told Taeyong about it. This was the first time he’d felt such intense déjà vu. He didn’t expect Taeyong's smile to grow.

 

“Why not? Come on, we can even cuddle in the booth.”

 

“Sorry, I don’t cuddle on first dates.” Taeyong’s fake pout made Taeil stifle a giggle. “If you came by later to watch cheesy movies, maybe I could be persuaded.”

 

When they took off on Taeyong’s motorcycle, leaving the others behind to wonder where they’d gone, Taeil thought that maybe this tentative love he’d decided on would be the one he would nurture: from a flickering tendril to a steady flame.

 

* * *

 

To Taeil, Taeyong was a crackling fire, chasing away the chills. Warm and comfortable, protecting him from the cold.


End file.
